A trademark of the work I do at starbucks is my disturbing ability to not only remember people’s orders (or incorrectly remember the exact same order for a person every. single. time.) but to also remember their names. And often with my customers, I strike up conversations regarding their names, our lives, or something random from that day. A pretty good customer service skill, also part of the reason I made my blog.
One of the regular customers at the starbucks I work at is named ‘Orson,’ so – being from North Carolina – I struck up a conversation with the guy about Orson Scott Card (a very famous writer from North Carolina who write ‘Enders Game’ and its sequels). Recently, during one of my many conversations with Orson, I remembered a fairly disturbing/hilarious event that happened during high school.
In sophmore year, I started hanging out with a boy named Kevin. On our first date, Kevin invited me over to his house for dinner. Now, at this point I knew very little about his family. We were in his kitchen cooking for a hour or two, when I hear ‘LENA! Get in here!’ My responce: Holy crap, I’ve only just met his mother, why is she yelling for me??
After a short moment or two freaking out that I had already made his mother hate me, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, ‘Whats up?’ his sister says to his mother. Reality of the situation – his sister’s name: Lena.
In the 15 previous years of my life, I had never met another Lena in the whole wide world. And in one of the many hilarious twists of fate that litter my life, the very first Lena I ever met happened to be my high school boyfriend’s sister, which he failed to tell me beforehand. Needless to say, that is one of the most outrageous (and later hilarious) coinicidences of my life.